Tuesday, January 8, 2008

It's Raining Fish

We're having record breaking warm temperatures which means the evil snow is gone but the squishy mud is back. It takes me a very long time to make my way to the front of the paddock, navigating through the boggy spots, and when I get there, it's time to come back to the barn. The others don't care, they gallop everywhere and accumulate a hideous coating of gloop.

Imagine my shock when I began the long trudge and, nose close to the ground, discovered a disembodied head staring at me. I froze in my tracks. The Head resembled nothing I have ever seen before - gaping mouth with many pointy teeth, glassy eyes and a strangely shiny armoured skin. I simply could not fathom what it had done with it's body nor why it seemed to have one fixed expression. Our staring match became a stand-off.

Much later out comes herself and asks me what on earth I'm doing. As she got closer, she said "Sheaffer, where did you get that fish head?" As if it were something I had casually acquired! She did not explain what a fish is or why they don't have bodies or anything else that might have enlightened me. She did say to the male human something about it having come from Lake Simcoe and having been transported here by a bird. This place is a madhouse. Now in addition to everything else I have to worry about being pelted with falling fish heads.

TJ is delerious with joy because it's gotten warm out. He attacked a tree, dragging a branch around and de-barking it while making strange huffing noises. Then he dug an enormous hole, so large his front end disappeared. The woman said he must be a mule/terrier mix. I was just going to push him into the hole and paw the dirt back in when he grew tired of digging and raced off to create havoc elsewhere. Oh well, next time.


completecare said...

I am so excited. My "Uncle Ed" posted on your blog the other day. My human passed on your information a couple weeks ago. Ed and his winsome wife Wendy have thoroughly enjoyed reading your diary. They are horse owners who come to our barn to visit their horse every week. Even though Dakota is of horse breeding he has a magnificent waistline of donkey proportions. If the truth be known, they now come to see my mom and me and visiting The Big D is just an excuse. Over the last few years they have come to appreciate our beauty, charm, intelligence and sense of humour. We appear at the gate as soon as we hear the rustle of the apple bag. There is no fooling us!!!! Even I have to admit eating an apple while wearing a grazing muzzle can be a challenge. I hope "Uncle Ed" continues to post as he has some terrific stories to tell and has quite a way with words especially when riled!!!!!!!

Our weather is much like yours, Sheaffer. Rain and mud with the odd icy patch which makes walking treacherous. We would have gladly stayed in but "oh no" out we had to go. Our human insists on putting the hay "kilometres" away from the barn. We either have to struggle out to the feeders or starve - we are not given any choice in the matter. We come in about 5:00 so we can get our muzzles taken off - wearing them is cruel and unusual punishment if you ask me. We can now spend the next 15 hours in the comfort of our luxury suite away from the rain and the wind.

My mom and I can spend the time we are not eating or 'lightly dozing' as you so eloquently phrase it, discussing what our next blog entry will be.

In closing, to quote Uncle Ed, "Donkeys Rule, Mules Drool".

Your fan,


ponymaid said...

Willy, the woman got me one of those torture muzzle thingies - someone with a perverse sense of humour markets it as a "Best Friends" grazing muzzle. You must tell me how you managed to consume an apple while wearing the barbaric device. Very pleased that your Uncle Ed has joined our select group of donkeys and donkeyphiles. In a world of chaos and plummeting fish heads, it's nice to be able to converse with the like-minded.

Uncle Ed said...

The trick with the torture muzzle thingie is to get the woman to slice up the apple and slide it down the inside of the muzzle. It's like your own personal feed bag!

Alas it is true that I am a donkey trapped in a man! My name says it all.



completecare said...

Hi again Sheaffer,

My human insisted that I come back on here and correct a huge exaggeration - don't know how that happened!!!! The hayfeeders are not really kilometres away from the barn. Even with our diminutive, meandering donkey steps it only takes us a couple minutes to reach our ever important food source.

We never have problems with flying fish in this area but will stay on the alert just in case. One can't be too careful about such things.

Your fan,


ponymaid said...

Willy, I know what you mean, what with our highly calculated way of perambulating, the hay can seem much further away than it actually is. The woman tells me I exaggerate about most things exercise-related, but then again, I feel she has a tendency to exaggerate about most everything. For example, she tells people (within my hearing, too!) that I am downright fat when in fact I am simply large boned and well muscled.